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Clean Slateby WesleysGirlRating: NC-17 Giles/Xander Many thanks to Jane Davitt and Lostgirlslair for the encouragement. Otherwise unbeta'd and imperfect. It's more than just eye to eye Xander had been drinking for... well, okay, he'd lost track. Three or four hours, maybe. Maybe more. Yeah, okay, definitely more. He wasn't sure if the lumpy motel bed was actual spinning in circles, or if was the room, or the whole world. Or maybe just him. Damn near a whole bottle of cheap vodka would do that to you. And there'd also been the drugs. He'd gotten those at the club. Hadn't gone in for anything more than a drink -- just wanting to lose himself somewhere that nobody'd be looking at him and wondering why and how he'd been so stupid. Deep down there was a tiny little voice that insisted that it hadn't been stupid -- that it had been the right thing to do, even though it had been hard. Even though the look on Anya's face had just about killed him. But anyway, a guy -- a cute guy, and Xander had done his best to repress the knowledge that the guy was not only cute but also hitting on him -- had given him something. Some pills. He wasn't even sure what they were. In half an hour he'd known he was in over his head, and had staggered back to the motel, barely able to fumble the key card into the lock on the door. The spinning was making him dizzy, and three of the four pills were still in his pants' pocket. Xander wondered what would happen if he took the rest of them all at once. Would he go to sleep and not wake up? The little reasonable voice that suggested that wasn't a good thing to experiment with was being loudly overridden by the bigger voice that told him it didn't matter. Xander rolled over and reached for the phone. He was past the point of 'going to get in trouble' and way into trouble itself. He didn't know who to call. Who knew where Anya was -- she might be at Buffy's, so no way was he gonna call there, not if there was a chance she might pick up the phone. Who the hell else was there? Oh. There was a number that he hadn't been calling, but which was etched on his brain just the same. Like someone had taken a big scary knife -- maybe Jack O'Toole's Katie, or something eerily like her -- and carved it on the inside surface of his skull. Scraping away, bone fragments that... Okay, feeling a little bit sick now. He dialed the number with a shaky hand, and held the phone to his ear. When the voice came, it sounded far away. Xander woke up, dragged to the surface of sleep against his will, with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. No, wait, that was someone pounding on the door. No, actually it was his head, he realized, when it continued even while he heard the sound of the door opening. Confused, Xander opened his eyes. He had a strange, sideways view of Giles. But no, that couldn't be right -- he must be hallucinating. He closed his eyes and opened them again. Still Giles, who was talking in a low voice to some guy Xander didn't recognize, then handing the man something and issuing him out the door. It closed with a firm click. Giles moved over nearer to the bed, then crouched down at something closer to Xander's eye level. "Are you all right?" "What-- " Xander's voice was so rough that he could barely understand himself, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you doing here?" "Trying to keep you from bloody well killing yourself." Giles' fingers closed around his wrist -- they felt cool and kind of good there, but the movement made Xander's stomach flip over. The realization that he was going to be sick washed over him like a wave, and Xander scrabbled at the edge of the bed, trying to get up in time. His arms and legs didn't work the way they usually did, though, and he had to close his eyes as he threw up over the edge of the bed, trying not to hear the sound of it hitting the carpet. Giles' hand was on his shoulder, holding onto him, and Xander was way too sick to even be embarrassed. He just kept his eyes shut and waited through wave after wave, helplessly, until he was dry-heaving and gagging on the taste of bile in his mouth. The world went kind of gray again for a few minutes there. When he opened his eyes, Giles was sitting on the edge of the bed again, touching his shoulder. "What did you take?" Giles asked. "I don't know," Xander said, too strung out to be anything but honest. "Some pill." "Just one?" "Yeah." "And you've no idea what it was." "No." Giles made a familiar sound of relief and disgust and frustration. "How could you be so stupid?" Xander didn't even have the energy to blink. "I wasn't thinking?" he offered finally. "Well clearly you weren't," Giles agreed, getting up and pacing over toward the wall. Watching him made Xander dizzy. "Buffy and Willow warned me that you weren't in your right mind, but this goes past that even for you. I don't understand how you could be so -- " Xander interrupted him -- not on purpose -- with a whimper as his stomach flipped over again. He rolled onto his side, curling up, trying to make himself smaller while he waited for it to stop. Giles stopped talking, and after a minute, Xander felt a cool hand on the back of his neck. "You'll be all right," Giles said soothingly. "I'll save the lecture for when you're feeling a bit better, shall I?" The only response he could get out was another whimper. He heard Giles sigh, then felt himself being pulled up into Giles' lap in an awkward sort of half-sprawl that ended with his head resting on Giles' thigh. "Just breathe," Giles advised, one hand patting his hair gently. "Concentrate on that." "How did you know where I was?" Xander asked after a while. "You phoned me," Giles said. Oh yeah. He did have a vague memory of that. "But you were in England." "No, actually I'd just landed at the airport when you rang." Giles' voice was low, like he knew that Xander's head was pounding. "But I called your number in England." This didn't make sense, and Xander knew it didn't make sense. The problem was, he didn't know if it didn't make sense because it really didn't make sense, or if it was just because he was so stoned. "And the call was forwarded to my cell phone." Giles shifted his weight, and Xander found himself clutching onto Giles' leg, not wanting to lose this comfort so soon. "Xander?" He forced himself to loosen his death grip, but left his hand where it was, draped over the top of Giles' calf. "Yeah?" "Tell me what happened." Xander could see the stripe on his tux pants -- rented, and he was supposed to take the tux back in the morning -- shining softly in the light from the bedside lamp. "I... couldn't do it." "That part I already knew." Giles' hand was rubbing the back of his shoulder now. It felt nice. "Buffy and Willow told me when I arrived at the church." "Your flight got cancelled," Xander said, finally remembering. Giles' thumb moved in little circles in the spot next to his shoulder blade. "I managed to get on another about an hour later. Which is why I was just late enough to miss whatever happened. And then no one knew where you'd gone." It hadn't occurred to him to let anyone know where he was going, although actually he hadn't really known where he was going. He'd just wanted to get away -- away from the expression on Anya's face, away from Buffy and Willow who were going to have plenty to say about the whole thing, away from... himself. "I didn't know where I was going," he said. "They were worried," Giles said. "You should have called." "To let them know I was okay?" Xander asked. He would have laughed if he didn't feel so shitty. "That would have required me actually being okay." "This isn't a solution." Giles said it like it was something Xander should have already known, and Xander thought that maybe, deep down, he had. It just wasn't that easy. Nothing was. "Yeah, I know," he said, because if he said that it sounded like he was being reasonable. "What can I do to help?" Giles' voice was kind of rough with comfort, and it made Xander want to cuddle up even closer and be soothed. "I know we haven't... been in touch as much as we might have been, lately. But I'm here if you want to talk." That did make him laugh, even if it sounded pretty pitiful. "If I was good at talking, I wouldn't have got myself into this mess." "I rather suspect it was the talking that did get you into this mess." Giles didn't sound mad, or even disappointed really. More like... accepting. "Did you want to marry her when you asked her?" Xander closed his eyes, but his fingers tightened on Giles' leg. "I thought I did. But there's... I just... it's complicated." "Sometimes there are things that are difficult to acknowledge," Giles said, and Xander wondered if he talked like that on purpose or if it was some kind of side effect of being a librarian. Or a Watcher. "Do you love her?" He was quiet for a long time before he was ready to answer that one. "Yeah. But not... not enough, I guess." "Then it's best you called it off when you did," Giles told him, his hand rubbing Xander's shoulder again in a way that made him feel kind of funny. "Is there someone else?" And there was the big question. Of course, it wasn't really the right question -- more like the right question's relative. First cousin, maybe. He finally settled for saying, "Not exactly?" "You don't... It's not Willow?" For the first time Giles sounded uncertain. At least there it was easy to reassure him. "Nope. I think that ship sailed a long time ago. For both of us. That ship is a tiny blip at the edge of the radar screen." Giles shifted underneath him, and Xander worried that maybe he was too heavy, but he really, really didn't want to move. "Relationships can surprise you," he said. "Sometimes years can go by... but no, I'm not trying to suggest that you should be with Willow, of course not. Then when you said 'not exactly,' you meant...?" "I don't know," Xander said automatically, even though it wasn't true. He tried again. "I don't want to make the same mistake my parents did. I don't want to end up like that... hating the person I'm with, just because they're not... not who I really wanted. When it's not even their fault." "Close your eyes," Giles said. "Picture whoever it is that you do want -- the perfect person for you. What is she like?" "I think she's a he," Xander said almost automatically, then realized that he'd actually said it out loud. The thing he'd been trying to hide all this time, sometimes in plain sight, just... blurted out like it was nothing. He started to cry. It wasn't real crying. There weren't any tears, for one thing, just desperate wracking sobs that felt like he was throwing up again, like something bad in his body was trying to get out, purge itself from his system. He wasn't even embarrassed -- this was too primal for that, the kind of thing that happened and you never talked about it afterwards because there wasn't anything to say. He clutched at Giles and the other man held him, murmuring soothing things that somehow managed to make Xander feel worse. Giles was being nice to him, and he didn't deserve it, not after what he'd done to Anya. Giles pressed some tissues into his hand and he took them gratefully as the sobs tapered off into hiccups. Wiping his face was pretty much an exercise in futility, but he did it anyway, clutching onto the wad of damp kleenex as his breathing evened out. "It's all right," Giles said, smoothing his hair back from his face with a gentle hand. "It can be a difficult thing to come to terms with, but you'll manage." The room was quiet. "What about you?" Xander asked finally. "Ethan Rayne..." Giles' hand paused, then went back to its careful stroking. "I didn't realize I was so obvious," he said. "Not you," Xander said. "Him. It just seemed like... you know." "Yes," Giles said. "I do." "Was it just him?" Xander asked. "Was he the only man, do you mean?" Giles asked, and Xander nodded, his cheek rubbing against Giles' thigh. "No." Xander's brain wasn't working all that well, but he still frowned. "But there was Ms Calendar. And that other one. What was her name?" "Olivia," Giles said absently, his hand rubbing up and down along Xander's shoulder. "Sexuality isn't as simple as gay or straight, Xander. It's fluid. Well, for some of us, at least." While he was trying to let that sink in, Xander yawned. "So I'm not gay?" "Only you can answer that," Giles said. "What I meant was, it's not important." Giles was saying something else, probably something else important that should be listened to, but the fuzz in Xander's brain was rising up slowly, filling his eyes and ears and carrying him away with it into sleep. When Xander woke up again, the room was quiet. He opened his eyes and saw Giles, sleeping, and then he remembered everything with a rush of sick despair that made him close his eyes again and wish that it would all just stop -- his heart, his breathing, his brain. All of it. He couldn't deal, and he didn't want to keep trying. It was too hard. Slowly, he got up, trying not to make much noise, and went into the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder. He washed his hands and then splashed water onto his face and stood up, looking at himself in the mirror. He was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Xander put his hand into his pocket and found the three pills from the night before. Looking down at them cradled in his palm, he noted that one was a little bit crumbled around the edges. He didn't really wonder what they were, but he did wonder what they'd do if he took them all at once. Maybe they'd kill him; maybe not. At the very least they'd probably knock him out for a good day or so... time in which he wouldn't have to think or feel, and right then that sounded pretty good. He flinched when Giles appeared suddenly in the doorway, his heart doing double-time. "I thought you were still asleep," he said accusingly, unsure which one of them he was mad at. Giles just looked at him for a few really long seconds before the other man's eyes dropped down to Xander's palm. Xander glanced down at it, too, and when he looked up at Giles again, Giles seemed... cold, maybe. Distant. Not good, whatever it was. Giles didn't say anything. He held out his hand. And slowly, like he was underwater, Xander reached out and put the pills into Giles' hand. Giles moved behind him and dropped the pills into the toilet, then flushed it. "Come with me," Giles said. Xander obeyed, not that there was far to go. But he followed Giles out into the bedroom and stood there while Giles gathered up the few things that were lying around the room and handed Xander his shoes. "Put them on," Giles said. "What -- " Xander started to ask, but Giles cut him off with a shake of his head. "Not now, Xander." Shakily, and wishing he'd had a chance to take a shower, Xander sat on the edge of the bed and put his shoes on. They were the rental ones that came with the tux and didn't fit perfectly, but part of him kind of liked that they were uncomfortable. It gave him something else to think about. They left the room and went to the office, where Giles turned in Xander's key. Giles had a rental car, a nondescript four door in a metallic gray. Xander waited until they'd left the parking lot before he asked, "Now can I ask where we're going?" Giles sighed. "Put on your seat belt." As Xander did as he was told, Giles continued, "I'm going to offer you two choices. Either I stay with you until your current bout of self-destruction has passed, or you stay with me." "You don't have anywhere to stay," Xander said. "Actually, I do. Quite a nice hotel." Giles kept his eyes on the road, not turning to look at Xander. The hum of the engine was quiet. "I don't want to go back to my place," Xander said finally. "Fine. Then you'll stay with me." Giles still wasn't looking at him. Xander wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Giles that he was fine, that he didn't need anyone to take care of him or make sure he didn't kill himself or whatever it was Giles was thinking. But it wouldn't have been true. He was looking down at his knees. "I need to take the tux back," he remembered. "We'll take care of it later," Giles said. "Is there anything you need from your apartment?" Xander shook his head. Whatever he might have needed from there before... he didn't need it anymore. Maybe he never had. They went to a huge department store, where Xander followed Giles around like a zombie while Giles picked out some clothes and things for him. A couple of times Giles asked Xander for input, but Xander didn't seem capable of finding any answers for him other than a confused stare. Giles paid for everything. Xander was dimly aware of the strange looks they were getting from the people who worked at the store, but he had bigger things to worry about, like whether or not he was gay and what the hell he was going to do to make this up to Anya and if his friends would ever forgive him. Sure, Willow and Buffy had been his friends first, but there was a weird girl bonding thing that went on between women, and Xander wasn't sure where that left him. Giles' hotel was about a million times nicer than the one Xander had paid for the night before. He started to take the new clothes into the bathroom so that he could shower and change, but Giles frowned. "Come here." Giles sat down in one of the chairs and gestured at Xander's waist. "Empty your pockets." "What?" Xander blinked at him dumbly. "Do it." Giles didn't sound mad, but he did sound stubborn, so Xander did as he'd been told, taking out his keys and wallet and giving them to Giles. "Now turn them inside out." Xander did. "Happy now?" he asked. "No, but it's a start." Giles sighed. "Go and take your shower. But don't lock the bathroom door." "Giles..." Xander didn't know how to say it without actually saying it. "I'm not going to do anything." Giles met his gaze without answering for a few long seconds, then said, "And I'm not taking any chances. Don't lock the door." "Okay, okay." Xander wasn't sure how to feel about how Giles was acting. Offended? Flattered? He decided he'd settle for confused. Washing off all the grime made him feel better. He pulled on the loose jeans and t-shirt and brushed his teeth, then went back out into the bedroom, which was actually kind of half bedroom, half living room. There were two beds, a desk, a table with two chairs, a small sofa, and a sofa chair. Giles had just set his cell phone down on the table. "Are you hungry?" It shouldn't have been a hard question, but Xander found himself staring at Giles blankly again. Giles looked tired, he thought. "Um... yeah." "We can order room service, or there's a restaurant next door. Whichever you prefer." "I don't care," Xander said, sinking down on one of the beds. "What do you want to do?" Giles was watching him thoughtfully. "You don't look as if you'll stay awake long enough for a proper meal," he said. "We'll get something sent up for now and go out later." Grateful that Giles was willing to make the decisions, Xander nodded and yawned. He really was tired. He could barely keep his eyes focused to look at the menu Giles passed to him, although his stomach growled loudly as he read it. "Cheeseburger?" Xander said hopefully. "And fries." "Of course," Giles said, taking the menu from him and picking up the hotel phone. Xander didn't manage to stay awake long enough for the food to arrive, but when he woke up, groggy and confused, a couple of hours later, he scarfed down the cold burger and fries, so hungry that he hardly chewed before swallowing. Giles was dozing on the other bed, flat on his back with his glasses still on and his mouth slightly open. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his tie loosened and lying across his chest, rising and falling with his breathing. Xander couldn't stop looking at him. Quietly, he put his plate back on the tray and opened the door to put the whole thing in the hallway. Giles sat up immediately at the sound of the door opening, like he'd been half-awake the whole time and listening for it. Xander held up his hands. "Hey, not going anywhere," he said. "Good." Giles relaxed and lay down again, watching Xander as he went back over to the bed and sat. "How are you feeling?" Xander shrugged, thought, and shrugged again. "I don't know." "A bit less like you want to take random pills given to you by strangers, I hope," Giles said. His tone was light, but his eyes were studying Xander's face the same way Xander had been studying him before. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, either. "Yeah." He wanted to say more, but he couldn't figure out what. Giles yawned hugely. "I'd like to take a shower," he said. "Can I count on you to be here when I get out?" Xander nodded. "Yeah." Something made him add, "I'm okay. Really." The look Giles gave him was a doubtful one, but the other man collected some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. "I have two days before my flight back to London," he called, starting up the shower. "Think about what you'd like to do with them." Being told to think was so not what Xander needed right then. Thinking was bad. Thinking made his head hurt and other parts of his body do things that they weren't supposed to -- well, they were supposed to, just not when he was imagining Giles naked under a spray of water, lathering up, hands... Xander reached for the remote and turned the tv on, clicking determinedly through the channels in an attempt to find something to distract himself. He found Highlander and slid back on the bed until he was propped up on the pillows, remote control resting on his stomach. Immortals made everything better. Plus, Adrian Paul was really hot. Oh, God. It was hopeless. Rolling onto his side, Xander curled up and closed his eyes. If he wasn't asleep by the time Giles came out of the bathroom, maybe at least Giles would think he was asleep and leave him alone. He thought longingly of beer and mystery pills. Not that he wanted to kill himself, because he didn't, not really, but being able to make everything go away for a while... that would be good. The shower stopped, and after a few minutes Giles came back. Xander lay still with his eyes closed, trying to make his breathing as even as possible. Very softly, Giles said, "Xander?" Xander didn't move. It must have been enough to fool him, because Giles didn't say anything else. The tv's volume was quiet, but not so quiet that Xander couldn't listen to it, so he lay there and imagined what was happening on screen as Duncan MacLeod and some other immortal had a sword fight to the accompaniment of some woman's protests. It wasn't all that interesting, though, and the next thing Xander knew he was waking up again, the tv was off and Giles was talking quietly on the phone. "Yes, I know," Giles said, as Xander rolled over and sat up. His eyes met Xander's for a second or two. "All right. I will." He hung up the phone. "How are you feeling?" "Better," Xander said, surprised to discover that it was true. "Not as tired. Was that Buffy?" Giles looked startled for about half a second before his expression smoothed out. "Yes. I needed to let her know that you're all right." Xander felt pretty mellow about that. Somehow, looking at Giles made him feel better, like there was someone there to take care of things. "Yeah." Then he remembered. "Did she... did she say anything about...?" "I didn't ask," Giles said, leaving Xander to wonder if it was true. "At the moment I've my hands full with you. Buffy and Willow can handle the rest." Still, Xander couldn't help but think about Anya, and what she must be going through. It hurt, knowing that she was in pain and it was his fault, but it would have been worse to go through with it when he knew how things would turn out. She was better off this way, even if she didn't believe it now. Giles looked at his watch. "Get up," he said. "We're going to dinner." Xander's first inclination was to argue about it, but he decided he didn't care enough to bother. He put his feet into the sneakers Giles had bought for him and tied them, then stood up, rubbing his hands over his arms. "Are you cold?" Giles asked. Xander shook his head, because he wasn't. Not physically, anyway. They had dinner in the restaurant next door. Xander wasn't dressed for how fancy the place was, and again he was aware of strange looks from people as he followed Giles to their table and sat down. "I'm surprised they aren't kicking me out," he said when the waiter had left, leaning forward so he could keep his voice low. Giles looked at him calmly over the pine green leather folder that held his menu. "Don't waste your time worrying about what other people are thinking," he said, like it meant more than what they were talking about. "Right. Okay," Xander said, chastened. He turned his attention to the menu, trying to find something that sounded good, but even though he was hungry -- again -- he didn't feel up to making a decision. The waiter came back and Giles ordered, then looked at Xander expectantly. He must have been able to tell from Xander's expression that he had no fucking clue what to order, though, because he said, "And the prime rib," like that had been the plan the whole time. "Baked potato, sour cream. Salad." "What dressing would you like on the salad?" the waiter asked, eyes moving from Giles to Xander and back again. "Russian," Xander managed, then flushed with a strange combination of pride and embarrassment that had his gaze on the tablecloth until the waiter left again. "Sorry," he said to Giles. "I know I'm being all..." He moved his chin in a tight figure eight, using the motion to explain his general state of being. "You know. Wonky." "It's to be expected," Giles said, but not in a condescending way. Nicely. They didn't talk much. There was too much going on inside Xander's head for him to decide what to say, and Giles seemed to be willing to let him straighten it out on his own. And wasn't that a laugh. The food was good. Giles asked if he wanted dessert, but for once in his life he didn't. Giles ordered coffee and Xander stood up, staving off the questioning look Giles gave him with, "Bathroom. I'll be right back." In the men's room, Xander washed his hands and then stood looking into the mirror, staring at his own reflection with a sense of confusion. He didn't get how that guy in the mirror, the one that he'd known all his life, could still look the same after all that had happened. The only thing different was that his eyes seemed kind of... blank. Which was weird, considering he didn't feel blank. He felt all twisted up inside, tense, almost nauseated. Not a good thing to think of on a full stomach. He sighed and went back to the table, where Giles was drinking his coffee. "It's not too late to change your mind about dessert," Giles said. Xander shook his head. "Nah. I'm good. More than good. I think I should have stopped halfway through that baked potato, actually." He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach in demonstration, hoping he was pulling off the 'act casual' thing. The look on Giles' face told him that he wasn't. "Would you like to talk here, or would you rather go back to the room?" "Uh..." Xander tried to think fast, something he was never good at. "The room?" As soon as he'd said it, he knew that it was a mistake, because being alone in a hotel room with Giles when he couldn't stop thinking about the hard planes of naked men's bodies... Feeling small and suddenly cold, Xander followed Giles back to the hotel. "We should have bought you a coat," Giles said, glancing at him and seeing the way he had his arms wrapped around himself. There was no way that Xander could explain that he wasn't physically cold without sounding stupid, so he kept his mouth shut. In the room, without the safety of dozens of people around them, Xander sat on the end of his bed and leaned forward with his head in his hands. Maybe Giles would leave it alone for now. Maybe he'd suggest that they could both use some sleep before they talked. Maybe... The mattress sank down under Giles' weight, and Giles put an arm around Xander's shoulders. "It's all right," Giles said gently. "No, it's not," Xander said, misery spiking up and making his voice crack. "It's not even close." Giles' arm was warm, and Xander couldn't help but turn toward him, his ear pressed to Giles' side. Giles patted his hair gently like he had the night before. "Xander." It was weird, hearing Giles say his name like that. He wasn't sure what it meant. "I don't know what to do." "You'll sort it out. It's not the end of the world. I know it may feel that way now, but..." Xander opened his eyes and let one of his hands drop down onto Giles' leg. He looked at it resting there and swallowed. "I don't... it feels like I don't know who I am." "Of course you do." Giles' voice was reproachful. "You're the same person you were before. This doesn't change anything." Looking at his thumb where it lay against Giles' thigh, Xander laughed shakily. "I'm pretty sure it does." "It doesn't," Giles insisted. "Nothing important, at any rate." Xander sighed and glanced up, then froze at the expression on Giles' face -- concerned, like he really cared about Xander, which probably shouldn't have been as big a surprise as it was. Before Xander could talk himself out of it, he straightened and kissed Giles. Giles made a little muffled noise against Xander's lips, his hand settling on the back of Xander's neck in a way that made Xander feel warm and comforted. He wanted more of that, just as much as he wanted Giles' mouth pressed to his. He was suddenly, painfully hard, but as he shifted to get into a better position, Giles let go of him and slid away. "No," Giles said, and Xander felt his heart collapse back down into that small, miserable little place it had been lately, the one that was starting to feel all too familiar. "And whatever it is you're thinking, stop immediately. It's not that I don't want you." "It's not?" Confused, Xander licked his lips and glanced at Giles, waiting for the explanation that was hopefully coming. "Not even close. But this isn't the right time. If you think about it, you'll know that just as well as I do." Giles' hand patted Xander's gently. "You need to go back and straighten things out with Anya, and as soon as possible." "Except for the part where I don't want to," Xander said ruefully. "Yeah, I know. You're right." He wasn't sure what else to say, and the silence between them stretched out past the point of awkwardness to where he had to get up and move around. "You'll sort it all out," Giles said. "Uh-huh," Xander said, unconvinced. Giles stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "You should probably try to get some sleep." Xander nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." Once he was in bed, curled up underneath the covers and facing Giles, watching him, he couldn't help but ask, "Giles?" "Yes, Xander?" "You want me?" It was a stupid question and he knew it, but he had to hear it again. It was important. "Yes," Giles said. "Very much." "Okay." And Xander drifted off to sleep peacefully. When he woke up, it was the middle of the night. The room was dark, only a faint crack of light escaping from the bathroom in a stripe across the thin carpet. Giles was asleep, his breathing regular and even, and Xander's dick was as hard as it had ever been, the head of it wet and slick where it pressed against his underwear, He slipped from between the sheets and knelt on the floor next to Giles' bed. Like he was dreaming, he pulled down the covers an inch at a time, watching his own hand and then Giles' face, eyes moving back and forth between the two. Giles was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants; the t-shirt had ridden up on the side and Xander could see a narrow strip of pale skin. It looked so soft that he couldn't help but reach out and touch it with hesitant fingertips. Giles' skin was warm, and he murmured softly, shifting in his sleep, when Xander touched him. As Xander watched, Giles' lips parted. He shifted closer to Xander's hand like he was giving Xander permission to touch him, so Xander did; slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of Giles' pants and slid them around to the small of his back. Giles sighed and mumbled something, and Xander shifted his weight forward and kissed him. For about four seconds, Giles just lay there while Xander's lips moved on his. Then he opened his eyes, pulled back. Looked at Xander like he was trying to see into him; Xander waited for Giles to say no, to tell him to go back to bed, but Giles didn't. Instead, Giles reached out and pulled Xander into bed with him, hands hard and demanding as their mouths came together. "God, yes," Xander muttered, grabbing onto Giles' hip and pressing closer, wishing that they were both wearing less clothes. "Fuck." "Not that," Giles said. He rolled Xander over, pressing him down into the mattress. He was heavier than Xander had imagined -- the weight of him felt amazing as Xander spread his thighs apart, rocking upward, gasping. Giles' cock -- and how weird were those words together, Giles' cock -- thrust along beside Xander's; too much friction, too much fabric, but Xander wasn't going to complain, not out loud, not when he'd been thinking and dreaming about this and never, ever thought it was something he'd get. "Don't stop," he heard himself begging. "Don't... please don't... oh God..." Giles' hand slipped between them and squeezed Xander's dick through his jeans and Xander came, mouth opened wide as he twitched and shuddered, come soaking into the thick denim. He could feel Giles rock a little bit faster against his thigh, could hear Giles' groan, breath hot and damp against his ear when Giles came, too. The room was quiet while they recovered, both of them breathing heavily. When Giles moved off of Xander to lie next to him instead, Xander felt cold and alone. He thought he was probably supposed to get up and go back to his own bed. He probably wasn't supposed to say anything; they probably weren't supposed to talk about it. It wasn't... well, Xander didn't know what it was. He hoped Giles did, because if neither of them had a clue then that was really sad. Before he could decide what to do, Giles wrapped an arm around his waist from behind and pulled him back so that they were spooned together. "I should be angry with you," Giles said, low and maybe just a little bit seductive. "You should?" Xander's voice cracked, revealing to both of them how fragile he was, so close to breaking. "For taking advantage of me." Giles kissed Xander's hair behind his ear. It felt more like affection than anything else. That was good, too. "While I was sleeping, no less." "You weren't sleeping for long," Xander said. "No. I wasn't." Giles sighed, but he continued before the sense that he was disappointed in Xander could really grab hold. "I have to go back to England. You know that." Xander nodded and reached down to curl his fingers around Giles'. "Yeah, I know." "It's better for everyone." "Better for Buffy," Xander ventured, and then, because it was true, "Better for you." "And for you," Giles said, his hand turning and holding onto Xander's. "How?" Xander asked. "How is it better for me?" "Look at me," Giles said. He waited until Xander had squirmed around to face him. "You have unfinished business. Things that you need to take care of on your own." "Thanks for reminding me," Xander said, trying not to sound too ungrateful. "But once you have..." Giles went on. "If you still feel the same... there are things I could use some help with." "In England?" Giles nodded and reached out to brush a thumb across Xander's lower lip. "You could join me there, if you wanted to. Although you may feel differently when things aren't so up in the air." "Differently how?" Xander asked. "Changing my mind about Anya? Or changing my mind about you?" Giles' expression made it pretty clear which one he was thinking of, and Xander frowned and shook his head. "No. No way." "It's a complicated situation," Giles said, like they were talking about a chess game or... tweed, or something. "No it isn't," Xander said, settling his hand at the small of Giles' back. "It's simple. It's the simplest thing there is." And it was. He could see it, like he'd never seen anything before; so clear, the edges of everything sharp and bright. "Is it?" Giles asked. He was looking back at Xander, searching his eyes, and Xander knew that there were some things he was better at than Giles was. "Yeah," Xander said, his hand rubbing Giles' back in a slow spiral. "It is. Because when it comes right down to it, it's just you and me." There was nothing complicated about it. It was the easiest thing in the world. End.
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